


you've been invited

by saviorbrother



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Future Fic, M/M, Sort of? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8800165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saviorbrother/pseuds/saviorbrother
Summary: Ushijima comes to him the second time around.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is like two years after they graduate. This hasn't been beta'd.

The last time he had seen Ushijima, it was on a cool day in March. He looked more stiff than usual, his mother standing ram-rod straight beside him. Graduation day was long and torturous for Tendou, sitting in his seat for such an extended period of time left him jittery. 

 

“I heard you went national, Ushijima-kun,” he says, quietly. 

 

Goshiki is set to graduate this year, captain of the volleyball team, and taller than the last time he had seen him. And he invites them to all his practice games, they just happened to show up at the same one.

 

“I did. Recently, though,” Ushijima answers, tilting his head as Goshiki spikes a ball clear across the court. 

 

Looking for approval, their kouhai turns to them with a smile. Ushijima nods and Tendou throws him a thumbs up. 

 

“How long are you gonna be here for?” 

 

“Until the season starts up again.”

 

They don’t say anything more, not to each other.  
\---

 

He was eighteen and stupid, tripping over his own feet now that they had lost to Karasuno. They had beat Ushiwaka, the great ace himself, but they tore Tendou down, too. 

 

“Hey, you heard what I told you earlier, right?” 

 

The benches were comfortable on a night like this, clear sky, everyone inside. Ushijima sat next to him in his running shorts and a sweater, staring at nothing in particular. 

 

“You told me many things, Tendou.” 

 

Satori twists in place, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. 

 

“About not giving up on volleyball. I’m looking forward to seeing you on those popular shows,” he puts a small whine in his voice. 

 

“I’m not giving up. One who does so--” Tendou couldn’t listen to the rest. 

 

There wasn’t a whole lot of time memorize the jagged fall of Ushijima’s hair or the baritone of his voice or the bow of his mouth--

 

“Satori…”

 

He hadn’t noticed--he swears he didn’t mean to lean in so far. But Ushijima isn’t backing down, not giving him an inch, he always encouraged Tendou to have no fear. Go for what he wants. 

 

“Waka…” he didn’t finish, pushing forward to catch Ushijima’s upper lip between his own. 

 

Tendou kissed him a few more times, feather light, smiling when Ushijima leant forward too, breaths growing rapid. 

 

“Guys!”

 

Tendou jumps, backing away before Goshiki can spot them in the dark. 

 

“Semi said get your--um, asses inside!” the young boy shouts from the dormitory door.

 

Waving him off, Tendou stood, brushing his long fingers over Ushijima’s thigh, pinky catching right under the hem of his shorts. 

 

“It’ll just be me in my room tonight,” a bold statement in the form of a whisper before he was gone. 

 

Ushijima never did take him up on the invite. 

 

\---  
How he ended up at Tendou’s apartment was a wonder in itself. Surprised, but not unwelcoming, he let Ushijima come inside. Spacious and lacking in Satori-esque things, the living room had a blue suede couch, a white carpet, and a flat screen. 

 

“Mom said I should keep the clutter confined to my room,” was all Tendou sighed, plopping back down onto the couch in his sweats and t-shirt. 

 

Now, they were sitting too close to be inconspicuous, rigid and silent while watching the movie. 

 

“I never got to ask what you’re doing,” Ushijima starts, unsteadily, tightening his hands on his knees.

 

“Meh, just art shit in university. Nothing glorious like professional volleyball,” Tendou teases, looking over at him. 

 

“It’s not as glorious as you think, it wouldn’t be to you,” he intones, eyes flitting quickly to Satori’s face, then away. 

 

A man is meant to feel this way about a woman, supposed to carry her bag and open the door. All he actually wants to do is grip Tendou by his fucking jaw and see the spike of adrenaline that’ll run through him. 

 

Something is happening on screen, but Ushijima can’t concentrate. Tendou’s fist is fidgeting against his own knee, hesitating. His mom might not approve and his teammates would probably change before he got into the locker room, and the women that come to his every match will be less than jovial. But Ushijima has never given a shit about the tiny details, anyway.

 

Spreading his legs wider, just a fraction, enough to be nothing but a mistake, brushing his left knee against Satori’s right. There’s a floating feeling between them, like stale air, before nimble fingers crawl across his knee, skittish. His pulse picks up as fingertips hike higher up his leg, bare until they reach the edge of his shorts.

 

There’s a faint memory about not quitting and kisses shared, fleetingly. Ushijima snaps, turning to grip Satori by his jaw, a firm hold when that hand slides up towards his groin. Tendou moans, his lips pursing as he tilts his face up for them to crash together. Their teeth clash the first time, noses jam as Ushijima tilts his face, forcing his tongue inside Satori’s slack mouth.

 

Tendou gropes at Wakatoshi’s hard dick, relishing in the labored breaths that fan over his face in return. 

 

“Waka-kun,” he slurs, trying to pull back.

 

Yanking his face away, Tendou turns to get on his hands and knees, face pressed into the armrest, pulling his sweats down over his bare ass. Wakatoshi follows him clumsily, curling over his back, and pumping his hips into Satori in rolling waves. 

 

Feeling the thick line of his cock dig between Tendou’s cheeks, Ushijima moans into the shell of his ear, his breaths dampening the skin. 

 

It isn’t the smoothest ride, neither of them has the finesse, but Satori’s dick hasn’t ever been this hard, never wanted to get fucked by anyone except Wakatoshi. The show intensifies on screen, their panting drowning out the sound, writhing on the cushions. 

 

“Wait, wait,” Tendou begs, lifting up onto his knees, Ushijima still plastered to his back. 

 

He gets a good look at the curved, flushed shaft of his friend’s cock, and then Satori is spitting thickly into his palm, once, twice, and three times. Reaching behind himself, he spreads it down his crack and between the shadow of his pale cheeks. 

 

“C’mon, Wakatoshi,” Tendou pants, eyes subdued, “pull ‘em down.” 

 

Pushing his shorts down to his knees, Ushijima isn't embarrassed that his dick springs up towards his abdomen. Blanketing Satori once more, groaning when his cock finally slips into the wet-stickiness created by gobs of saliva. 

 

Tendou decides that his heart might give out tonight, a bigger chance that it’ll shoot out of dick in an exclamation of how much he likes this. Wakatoshi’s thrust grow erratic, the couch scraping the floor, and the neighbors will complain tomorrow, but Tendou’s cries hike in pitch as he digs his nails into the couch. 

 

There’s a constant stream of _Wakatoshi, Waka-kun, ToshiToshiToshi_ , that makes Ushijima’s hips stutter, his hands slipping on the sweaty expanse of Satori’s narrow hips, over his heaving belly, and thumbing at perked nipples. 

 

But when his leaking tip catches on Tendou’s chaffed rim, he realizes just how bad he wants to fuck him. The ache in his balls, the pound of his heart, and the way he can feel more than feel Satori beating off furiously beneath him make his throat go dry.

 

“Next time, Satori, I’m going to--I will--” he breaks off into a throaty growl, bruising thin hips in his hands, promising something he will deliver.

 

“You fucking better,” Tendou says through clenched teeth, looking over his shoulder, whites of his eyes reflected blue by the t.v. “I don’t give it up to just anybody.”

 

The spit is drying up, burning some, but Tendou pleads for him to keep going in a tight voice.

 

“Wakatoshi, please,” Satori shakes, whimpering, stiffening. 

 

His hole clenches tight as he comes, pulsing, while he bites into the armrest to muffle his shout. Heart pummeling in his chest, he shoots onto the couch, uncaring about how it’ll soak in. 

 

Ushijima pulls his hips back in time to spill right over Tendou’s hole, thick and hot, and sac tensing as he unloads. He’s never felt his toes go numb like that before. 

 

Satori trembles as he feels it run down his perineum, sticking to his balls. 

 

“Fuck,” he curses, tongue heavy, “holy fuck, Toshi.” 

 

Ushijima falls onto his back, shorts still twisted around his knees. 

 

“Get me some tissue or something from the bathroom, will ya?” Satori pants.

 

“Yes.”

 

Wetting a washcloth, he catches his mussed up hair and red face in the mirror. He turns off the light before brining it make to Satori.

 

“You’re not gonna make a big deal out of this, right?” Tendou asks, cleaning himself up.

 

He tries not to watch even though it’s his come that’s being wiped up. 

 

“I don’t think so, no,” he answers hoarsely. 

 

Tendou does his best to clean the couch, sighing when it doesn’t completely work. The movie is ending on screen, credits rolling while Ushijima stands there, unmoving. 

 

“It’s just me in my room tonight,” Satori breezes past him, half naked.

 

He watches Tendou walk down the hall.

 

“That means get your ass in here, Wakatoshi!”


End file.
